


peach fuzz

by frankie_31



Series: Prompts [1]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, post-mosaic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 14:59:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13929498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankie_31/pseuds/frankie_31
Summary: After the mosaic reveal, Eliot and Quentin are closer.





	peach fuzz

**Author's Note:**

> Idea credit goes to tumblr user strangerthanjonathon.

Royal dinners are an all hands on deck situation. Eliot’s at the head of table, Fen by his left and Quentin at his right. Margo sits across from Eliot and everyone else just takes whatever seats are available. Tonight, there’s a basket of peaches among the usual meat and veggies. Eliot picks one out and begins peeling it with practiced motions, never dropping the conversation with Julia about the outfit choices of the sentient beavers in Fillory.  


He carves the peach into slices on his own plate, then cubes them. Quentin notices around this point and smiles gratefully. 

“Thanks, El,” he says and spears one off Eliot’s plate with his fork. There’s a brief pause while Quentin looks surprised at his actions and Eliot raises his eyebrows. “Oh, sorry. For some reason, I thought–”

“No,” Eliot says. “They are for you. I just didn’t… You don’t like how the skin feels. The fuzz.”

“Yeah,” Quentin answers and he’s taken back to sunny afternoons, eating chunks of peaches and running his fingers through Eliot’s hair. His eyes water a little and he huffs a laugh. Eliot reaches out to grab his hand and his eyes are glossy too. 

“What the fuck,” Penny says and then makes a hurt noise when Margo kicks him under the table. 

They’re holding court a few days later. A plain faced man with brown eyes and messy hair is asking for help and Margo can’t help but notice that Q and El are making ridiculous faces at the guy. She knows they don’t want his dick, but aside from that she can’t tell what the flying fuck is going on. He’s not asking for anything crazy, he needs help mending his fences after a stampede of velveteen rabbits crushed it last week. Eliot is practically cooing at this guy and Quentin literally has his face in his hands while he gazes at him. 

“I’m sure we can help you,” Quentin says softly and the guy looks kinda weirded out. “I can come help you today.”

“I have some free time, too,” Eliot interjects and Tick looks pained.

“Your most glorious majesties,” he says and bows deeply. “I am certain we have capable men who can assist with this task.”

Quentin looks a little devastated by this but Eliot seems to snap back to reality, “Of course.”

“I will arrange it,” Tick simpers and the man looks mollified.

“Thank you,” the man says and bows. 

“Bye,” Quinten says loudly and waves. He falters a little when Margo leans forward in her seat to stare at him. 

“What the actual fuck,” she says quietly and he shrugs sheepishly. 

“He looks like Rupert,” Eliot says and doesn’t look at either of them.

“Rupert Chatwin?”

“No,” Quentin says and his face is wistful. 

“Our son,” Eliot says and he reaches over to pat Quentin’s hand. Margo doesn’t feel any less confused. 

***

The next time, they’re throwing a gala for the lords and ladies of the area. They have a live band playing classic Fillorian music and a few Earth songs Kady has transcribed into Fillorian notes. The group is letting loose, drinking Eliot’s shitty version of wine and dancing as the night goes on. 

Eventually, the Fillorian version of line dancing comes up on the roster. Julia and Kady are the only non-royalty visiting and they take seats by Margo as the band announces which traditional dance will be performed. 

Julia looks around, “Where are the boys?”

The crowds part and they can see Eliot coaxing a laughing Quentin on to the dance floor. They’re dressed magnificently. Quentin’s in a deep blue suit with silver accents and Eliot is in jewel tones and a flowing capelet. Eliot finally succeeds and he and Quentin take the same starting poses at the locals. As the song plays through, Julia is surprised to see them keeping up and even adding flourishes and extra steps at some parts. 

The distinguished Fillorians seem delighted that their kings know the moves and after the song ends they cajole them into another traditional dance. 

A few songs later Eliot bows out to join the girls on the dais. They ladies are quiet for a moment but then Julia breaks the quiet.

“When did you guys have the chance to take dancing lessons?”

“I didn’t take lessons. I had a lifetime to learn those steps,” Eliot says and summons a wine glass. He takes a sip and his eyes settle somewhere beyond the room they’re in. “There was a monthly festival in a nearby village. We’d take Rup to experience his native culture and picked some up ourselves along the way.” 

They watch Quentin dance the night away. 

***

They touch a lot more now. Penny decides he’d have to crawl into a hole and die to care less but he is around the others enough to hear them discuss it. Sometimes, when Eliot and Quentin are doing their rounds on the farmlands they absently hold hands. Quentin steals Eliot’s sweaters. They drink off each other and share food and blah blah blah. Penny doesn’t give a shit. 

The only thing that has an effect on him is when the two are across a room or hallway and they start having nonverbal conversations. 

At first, Penny thought they were psychically communicating. They’d think little phrases and the other would respond and Penny would jerk his head up and look at them suspiciously. He watched them after that, watched them making faces at each other and shrugging and spontaneously laughing. 

It took a few days for him to realize that they were talking, just with their bodies. It was a language crafted over 70 years of being in each other’s pockets. They didn’t need words, they could read each other like books. 

It was sweet, Penny thought acidically. 

One day, they’re both moping around the castle. They’re avoiding each other, but they’re thinking almost identical thoughts. 

“…birthday…”

“He was born today…”

“..such a strong baby…”

“…wonder where he is…”

“…does he exist in this timeline…”

Penny’s fuckin’ over it. The longing they’re both feeling is choking him and he keeps almost crying. Kady keeps giving him crazy looks and he’s going to lose it. 

He finds them on opposite sides of the castle. Eliot is lounging artfully in the sunshine in one of the castle’s spires, his eyes red. Quentin is laying in the gardens on a bed of four-leaf clovers and staring blankly at the clear, blue sky. He herds them both to the King’s Hall and sits them at a table that has a giant, bronze book. 

Quentin traces his fingers over the raised letters. 

_Census_. 

“You’re both in there,” Penny says irritably. “And the kid.”

“Penny,” Eliot says with feeling and he crosses the room. He hugs Penny tightly and he tamps down the urge to travel away. “Thank you.”

“You guys have really been harshing my mood,” he says and untangles himself from Eliot. Unfortunately, Quentin is right beside him and he gets caught up in another goddamn hug. “Okay, okay.”

He hears a muffled laugh from the doorway and Kady is there, covering her mouth. 

He flips her off. Then gets swallowed up in another hug from Eliot. 

This is what he gets for being nice. 


End file.
